


The Frost and Thaw

by LadyKakata



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Jonaerys, The First Meeting on Dragonstone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:41:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23667058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyKakata/pseuds/LadyKakata
Summary: A Direwolf and a Dragon meet. What becomes of that meeting?A reworking of the introduction scenes between Jon and Daenerys. I wasn't satisfied with the way it went, and it should have started perhaps a touch softer, and the 'last King in the North' part corrected to include Robb Stark.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 12
Kudos: 41





	1. Chapter 1

Jon did not quite know what, precisely, to expect when he walked into the throne room at Dragonstone. He had never left the North before, at least, never left what is considered the true North. He had gone Beyond the Wall, and as far south as the Neck, but this was a new world entirely. Sansa had shown illustrations of King's Landing and told him stories of the stinking yet glittering midden that was the capital, as well as the windy prison of the Vale. Arya had spoken of the exotic sights of Braavos and the dank gloom of the Riverlands.   
This? This was something entirely different. The architecture of Dragonstone alone was something curious, but when he walked into the Throne room, he was struck by how moody and glossy everything was. His throne in the North was a simple wooden chair, no more grand than that of Sansa to his left. The Iron Throne was a terrible thing of melted swords and the blood of a thousand defeated lords and decadent Dragon Kings. 

The floor appeared to be black marble, threaded with veins of lighter stone to almost give it a watery effect, wide but shallow steps leading up to the throne itself. It appeared, from a distance, to resemble the profile of a dragon's head, in an odd way. Rough, yet graceful in the slanting rows of volcanic rock, it still seemed so ... plain for something that Aegon the Conquer would have sat upon, and upon whom sat the last of his descendants.

Daenerys Stormborn, the Targaryen Claimant of the Iron Throne. Princess of Dragonstone. 

Even from this distance, Jon was struck by her beauty. Her light blonde hair radiated from her head and spilled down her shoulders, a pale patch of snow against the darkness of her throne. A red sash fell from her right shoulder and behind her back, highlighting the diamond-shaped carvings on the back of the throne to resemble scales. Her hands were clasped in front of her on her knee, and he couldn't help but think she looked so small on her throne, he could only imagine how tiny she would be compared to the gigantic dragons that had surprised him outside.  
 _Little wonder people follow her, if she can command sons as big as that_.  
She seemed to watch him with distanced interest, as a woman dressed in black to her left announced her.  
"You stand in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, Rightful Heir of the Iron Throne, Rightful Queen of the Andals and the First Men. Protector of the Seven Kingdoms-"  
 _Six_ Ser Davos corrected mentally, but neither said anything.  
"Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea"  
Neither men knew what that meant. It had to be something to do with the Dothraki guard that was standing close to the Throne, his arakh ready and glimmering in the dull light of the room.  
"The Unburnt, The Breaker of Chains"  
A pause. Tyrion looked between the two, wondering how such an austentacious introduction would go over with the two Northern men.

Jon, for his part, looked a touch lost. He looked to Davos, almost seeking a cue for his own introduction. It was odd, having to do so to a stranger, whereas in the North everyone knew him as Ned Stark's Bastard, the former Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, Liberator of Winterfell, the White Wolf.  
Davos paused.  
"This is Jon Snow" His voice loud and dignified, before he had to say the one title that meant anything to a foreign Queen.

"He's King in the North"

Jon almost winced at the single title. The crown was uneasy on his brow at the best of times, and now it felt as though it were made of tin and braken compared to the one made of gold and steel that sat unseen upon the brow of the Dragon Queen.  
Daenerys, for her part, seemed to simply take it in stride, calling no attention to the difference in their titles. Tyrion had told her that Northmen were blunt and to the point, she should expect no great show like the Masters of Essos would do in order to flout their position and wealth. She would get no glamour, but she would also get complete honesty. And in war, that was more precious than any golden-armoured pleasantries put towards her in diplomacy.  
"Thank you for travelling so far, my Lord" She spoke, her voice light and clear. Jon noted that her voice had an accent that was different to anything he had heard before; it had hints of the Westerosi one, but Essos' many tongues had made an impact on her tone, "I hope the seas weren't too rough"  
"The winds were kind, your Grace" Jon nodded in welcome to the courtesy. Davos, however, could not let something slip, not in this place where had spent so much time with the Baratheons of Dragonstone and with Stannis' unyielding adherence to tradition and rules.  
"Apologies; I have a Fleabottom accent, I know-"  
Daenerys didn't see what that had to do with anything, but that was besides the point.  
"Jon Snow is _King_ in the North, your Grace. He's not a Lord"  
Daenerys regarded him with a light smile on her face. She was unsure if this man was Jon's Hand, or if he even had a Hand. The rules of the North were very odd to her, and Tyrion had been surprised at the sudden change to the North to name Jon as King. Something to do with bastards, the name 'Snow', the lady named Sansa Stark being Eddard Stark's heir ... Westeros had some bemusing laws when it came to children. Made no easier with the allowances in her own family, and what happened when bastards rebelled.   
"Forgive me-"  
"Your Grace, this is Ser Davos Seaworth" Tyrion quickly interjected. Davos was a good man, and it would not be good to let him go without a name for speaking up in the name of his King. A habit he made that could cost his life, but his principles wouldn't let it go unnoticed.  
"Forgive me, Ser Davos. I never did recieve a formal education, but I was informed that the last King in the North was the late Robb Stark, brother of Jon Snow. At least, as seen by the North; the last King from before the Conquest was Torren Stark, who bent the knee to my ancestor, Aegon Targaryen, in exchanged for his life, and the lives of the Northmen"  
It was a veiled threat, at least to everyone hearing it. This was not going well at all.  
"Torren Stark swore _fealty_ to House Targaryen in perpetiuty. Or do I have my facts wrong?"  
Davos was humbled, but could only reply with the closest thing he had to snark.  
"I wasn't there, your Grace"  
That amused Daenerys, she had to admit.  
"No, of course not. But still; an oath is an oath. And perpetiuty means ... What does perpetiuty mean, Lord Tyrion?"  
"... Forever" Tyrion looked at the two men, keeping his gaze level. He didn't seem disturbed by the direction of Daenerys' speech.  
"Forever" Satisfied with the answer, she addressed the Northmen again, "So, I assume, you are here to bend the knee"  
Jon had been looking down during her speech, but that caused him to sway his head, before looking up and looking her in the eye.  
"I am not" His voice clear and steady.  
Daenerys kept her light smile, with a note of only mild surprise.  
"Oh. Well, that is unfortunate. You've travelled all this way to break faith with House Targaryen?"  
"Break faith?" Jon sounded amused, but it was an amusement born out of indignant outrage, "Your father burned my grandfather alive, he burned my _uncle_ alive"  
Davos gave an uneasy side glance to Jon, but Jon continued.  
"He would have burned the Seven Kingdoms-"  
"My father" Daenerys raised her voice to cut Jon off, her eyes downcast for the first time in this meeting, "... was an evil man"  
 _That_ caught Jon offguard, and he fell silent.  
"On behalf of House Targaryen, I ask your forgiveness for the crimes he committed against your family"  
Silence, Jon glanced at Tyrion, but he said nothing.  
"And I ask you not to judge a daughter by the sins of her father"  
 _... Well, I know how it feels to be judged by your father's sins .._

"Our Houses were allies for centuries. Centuries of peace and prosperity, the best the Seven Kingdoms had ever known. With a Targaryen on the Throne, and a Stark as Warden in the North. I am the last Targaryen, Jon Snow. Bend the knee, and I will make you Warden of the North"  
Jon looked at her. He looked at her upon her throne. He looked at the Dothraki to her side, he looked at the dragons carved upon the walls to represent her children outside. He looked at Tyrion Lannister advising her. He saw someone that could take King's Landing tomorrow. He saw someone that could have his throat cut with no men but Davos to protect him. The most humble King the Seven Kingdoms, in any form, had known.  
"No"  
Her smile remained, but her brows quirked, and she tilted her head slightly, "No?"  
"It's true, what you say. You should not be beholden to your father's crimes" He tilted his chin up slightly, "And I am beholden to none of my ancestor's oaths"  
".. You are-"  
"I am not a Stark" He made that plain. He had said it many times in the North, he had said it to Tyrion, and he was going to make it _very_ clear to Daenerys, "I am, however, the King in the North. The people chose me to lead them, guide them. If I break my oath to them, as their King, then my word is nothing. My promises, meaningless"  
"I am not here to bend the knee, your Grace" Jon Snow of Winterfell spelt it out to Daenerys Stormborn of Dragonstone, "I am here, as King in the North, to speak to you as Queen of a faraway Essos Kingdom, about something that concerns us all. Something greater than both of us. Something greater than thrones and Kings and Queens"  
This was unexpected, and even Tyrion couldn't disguise his surprise.  
"And what is that?"  
"A threat from Beyond the Wall. Something that will need us to work together to fight it, or there will be no throne for anyone"  
"What, exactly, is this threat? I was under the assumption that the lands beyond the great walls of the Night's Watch had no Kingdoms"  
"That is true, the Wildlings have no Kings, for the most part. But it is something darker"

His refusal to say what it was out loud was starting to test her patience. He seemed so intent, so earnest. His dark eyes took on a steely glint when talking about.

"You stand before my throne, in front of my Dothraki and dragons. You refuse to bend the knee, and you say we have to fight something else. You make it sound as though I have no choice"  
"You do" He countered, "You could go after Cersei. I wouldn't stop you. She's a monster. You haven't gone after her yet ... I assume because you don't want to hurt innocent people"  
She waited to see where he was going to go with this.  
"I'm here from the North because this is something too important to send men to talk about on my behalf. And I refuse to send them to Cersei; she will instantly kill them without hearing their words. I was told you would listen. I need your help, Daenerys Stormborn. And you need mine"  
"Against ... what, exactly? I have thousands of Dothraki and Unsullied, all will kill for me. I have three dragons, each with enough flame to set a whole region's fields afire. What do I need your help with?"  
"The threat from the North"  
"You still haven't told me what, exactly, that is"  
"It is the Dead, your Grace. White Walkers, Wights, and the Night King"  
Daenerys simply stared at him, her brow furrowed.  
"I know it sounds fantastical, your Grace" Jon looked down, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, before looking back, "But you have dragons. So I thought you would be more open to believing it. Lots of people south of the Neck don't believe in the old stories, of wights and dead men murdering Night Watch rangers. The Wildlings don't believe it, they _know_ it. The Night's Watch didn't believe for a long time, now they have seen them. I've killed them, I have men who have killed them. They can be beaten. But not without help. All of us, all of the living, must come together to stop this army. We must fight them"  
"And after? What are your plans for after that?"  
"We must rebuilt. This war will not be won in days, or even weeks. Many, many people will die without co-operation"  
"I am asking a simple question; after this is over, will you support my claim to the Throne?"

Jon looked at her. She had three dragons. She had a mountain of dragonglass. She was an ally that was intensely valuable, more valuable than words. But the eyes of a thousand Northmen, generations of Starks, they all rested upon him at this critical moment, as a dragon roared outside.  
"I will do as the North wishes for me. I am their King, I answer to them. Not you. Not a Throne in the South that I have never seen. No-one else. A Stark must always be in Winterfell, and I will give my life to protect Winterfell and the people of the North. If that means you will strike me down for it, so be it"

A long, tense silence as Daenerys and Jon stared each other out. Davos looked to his feet frequently, Tyrion made silent calculations in his own mind. It was a risk, but Daenerys was forewarned of the North's bluntness. Of the humble beginnings of Jon Snow. Of his iron sense of right and wrong.

Daenerys stood, coming down from the steps of the Throne to stand before the man who was introduced with so little fanfare and even fewer men beside him. Jon was surprised to see that she was even smaller than he thought, but refused to move away from her. Coming closer, he could only marvel at her beauty, but the look in her eye had him more wary.  
"If a man comes to me with no men and only his word and a sword, with the expections of the people who called for him to lead ... Who am I to deny him an audience to discuss something he feels is a greater threat than the Mother of Dragons?" She offered a small smile, "I, Daenerys of House Targaryen, offer peace with the North under their King, to discuss the threat Beyond the Wall"  
She offered her hand, slim, with a silver ring ended with two beautiful white pearls on it, to him.   
Jon looked at the hand, then to her face. Standing with their gaze hooked, he was about to shake her hand when she took his entire arm, clasping just under the inside fold of his elbow. He hesitated, but did the same. He should have taken his gloves off, but he reserved some of his guard for now.   
"I therefore invite you to supper, so we may discuss this further. You have had a long journey, and I eel such matters would be better suited to a dinner table" She let go of his arm, but kept her gaze, a smile more firm on her lips.

"Wouldn't you say, your Grace?"

He offered a smile back.

"Yes, your Grace ..."


	2. Supper for Two

_Don't go south, they begged me. A Stark never does well south. Ned died in King's Landing. Grandfather Rickard died in King's Landing. Uncle Brandon died in King's Landing. Sansa came so very close. Arya had the sense to hide and flee. You are walking into the mouth of a dragon, and she has no reason not to swallow you whole ..._

Jon found the dinner strangely intimate, despite the fullness of the table. The two sides of the table were divided between the North to one side, and Dragonstone to the other. Daenerys sat in the middle, directly opposite Jon, giving the close feel. To her left and right sat the woman who had announced Daenerys' titles, a woman called 'Missandei', and Tyrion as her hand. Jon had only Davos, really, but guards from his fleet stood at the door along with the suspicious Dothraki guards. Both men, coming from completely opposite worlds, kept their words to themselves but their faces betrayed the tension between them. Even if they could speak, they did not share a common tongue, and it would be Daenerys' word and Jon's command to keep them apart.  
"Is wine suitable for you?" Daenerys addressed Jon as a servant poured some into her goblet from a corked bottle that was opened directly in front of her. A security measure, presumably.  
"That would be fine" Jon nodded. Davos looked at him out the corner of his eye, and he cleared his throat.  
"Actually, we would like to give you something. A gift from the North"  
"A token of goodwill" Davos explained, waving his hand to have the men bring in a barrel from between them. The dark wood was fastened by black iron, the contents sloshing inside with a deep drumming sound, and the cork covered over with sealing wax to show it was untampered, "We aren't great wine-drinkers in the North. Too much snow, not enough heat for grapes. We usually have ales and beers; and this is the best of the North. White Harbour black beer; as fine as any Arbor wine they say"  
"A bold claim, but one I cannot disagree with" Tyrion noted, as one of the men broke the seal and pulled the cork, Davos passing his and Jon's goblets over to be filled, "Though it has been a very long time since I've tried it"  
Daenerys watched with interest as the black lager poured into the goblet, the sweetness of the wine contrasting to the earthiness of the beer. When the goblets were passed back, Jon offered his to Daenerys.  
"..." She could see his fingers, now sans his gloves, around the lower part of the stem of the goblet, plainly offering it to her rather than signalling a toast. She, in turn, picked up her own wine-filled goblet in the hand opposite to his own, and they silently traded their goblets whilst keeping their eyes on each other.  
Taking their cue from this, Davos and Tyrion exchanged their own drinks, and Missandei traded hers with one of the Northmen who had poured the beer for the party.  
Daenerys held up her goblet, smiling, "To peace and prosperity"  
"Peace and prosperity" Tyrion echoed as Jon returned her smile, taking a sip of the wine. The sweet amber-coloured liquid, tinged with hints of green and pink, washed over his tongue with the taste of apricots, a fresh spring breeze with promises of summer. Daenerys, for her part, looked at the jet-black, slightly froathy brew in her cup and sipped it gingerly.  
"Do you like it, your Grace?" Jon asked, watching her reaction. Beer could be quite different if one only drank wine or even ale.  
"It reminds me of ... bread" She laughed a little, "Bread and well-cooked meat. It's almost a meal in and of itself"  
"A sign of a good beer" Davos noted, "It should warm you on the coldest winter days"  
"And your wine, your Grace?" She looked to Jon, seemingly not hearing Davos at all.  
"... It tastes like summer" He admitted, looking into his goblet again, "At the Wall, we have spiced wine, but nothing like this. This is very sweet, light. Nothing like I've ever had before"  
"Apricot wine, a speciality of Meereen" Tyrion informed him, taking a generous sip of his beer. It immediately reminded him of his last visit to Winterfell, of well-blackened bacon and chilled mornings in the grey walls of the ancient Stark stronghold, "Many a noble man wiles away the hottest afternoons with nothing but apricot wine and stories of good times"

"I'd never heard of Meereen before" Jon admitted, the plates being placed in front of them by other servants, "Not before now, anyway. What is it like?"  
"Very warm" Daenerys had a small laugh, "Nothing like Dragonstone. Nothing like Winterfell, I would imagine. There are great pyramids for nobility, walls that run along the sides and a mouth open to the sea"  
"Sounds like King's Landing" Jon pointed out, going by Sansa's descriptions, "With a Keep instead of Pyramids"  
"Great cities think alike at times" Daenerys mused, picking up her fork, "Tell me about the Wall, this 'Castle Black'. My Hand tells me he visited it, said it is hundreds of leagues tall, made of ice. Is he right?"  
"He is" Jon was tempted to mention that Tyrion pissed off the top of the wall, but that wasn't entirely appropriate for the dinner table. One look at Tyrion's face, though, certainly said that he was thinking about that, "It runs across the breadth of Westeros, from West to East. Westwatch-by-the-Bridge to Eastwatch-by-the-Sea, and Castle Black in the middle"  
"And you became Lord Commander?"  
"Yes, the 998th Lord Commander. I joined and started from the bottom, in a way. I had more training than a lot of my brothers in the Watch, and I rose"  
"Why did you leave?"  
A pause, as he looked up at her from his meal.  
"I'm sorry?"  
"Why did you leave? I was told that Brothers joined forever ... Or was I wrong?"  
"That ... is a subject I would rather not discuss, your Grace"  
Daenerys wanted to know, the pregnant pause in his speech was too much to simply cast away, especially with Davos shifting so nervously in his seat. Looking at Missandei for a second, she chose to let the matter go and return to her food.

Tyrion cleared his throat, letting a few minutes pass without a word, "I have told her Majesty that you have a Direwolf. She was most looking forward to seeing it with her own eyes. Last time I saw him, he was barely older than a pup"  
"Aye, a big one" Jon smiled at the memory of Ghost when he could be mistaken for a normal wolf, "He's bigger than you, now. Bigger than a lot of men, really"  
"Are you saying I could ride him like a horse?" Came the wry reply.  
"Only if you fancy having no arms and legs"  
"Oh, what is a few lost limbs for the chance to chase around Cersei on the back of a real direwolf" Tyrion savoured the thought as he supped his beer, "It would give the singers and mummers enough material to fill the theatres for a thousand moons"  
"Aye, well, I left him at Winterfell" Jon picked at one of the potatoes on his plate, "I thought it best he stay there, with Sansa. Sansa was adamant, she lost Lady when travelling down to King's Landing, and Nymeria ran"  
"Ghost is the only one left?"  
"I don't know about Summer or Nymeria, but Ghost is the only one at Winterfell"  
Daenerys was disappointed she wouldn't get to meet Jon's direwolf, personally.  
"Is that a direwolf on your sword?" She nodded to Longclaw, given back to Jon after their successful initial meeting as a show of good faith. Jon hung it and the scabbard from his chair to keep it in plain sight, in case the guards fancied him a sudden assassin.  
"Aye, it was a bear a long time ago. One of the Brothers carved a new head, made it resemble Ghost. It was a gift from Lord Commander Mormont"  
_Mormont_. Daenerys and Missandei stared at Jon, and he realised this after a few seconds. Nervously, he looked between the two women, opening his mouth but Daenerys cut him off.  
"This 'Lord Commander Mormont' ... Does he have relations?"  
"Well, yes, his family are the Mormonts of Bear Island. His niece Lyanna Mormont is the Lady of Bear Island"  
"And would you know of a Jorah Mormont?"  
"That ... that is the name of his son"  
"Ser Jorah is a friend, one I made back when I was no more than an offering to the Dothraki in exchange for an army so my brother could take the throne. He is ... away at the moment, on a command to heal himself of Greyscale"  
"Then ... this is his sword" Jon was visibly shocked. He never thought he would have the chance to give Longclaw back to the original heir of House Mormont.  
"It is yours" Tyrion pointed out, "Given by Lord Mormont to you. And it is yours until Jorah returns. _If_ he returns"  
_He will_ Daenerys thought privately, _He will do anything to win back my favour. He will either die or return, there is no in between ..._

"It would seem we have a fair few things in common" Daenerys mused as their plates were taken away, their drinks refreshed. She took her goblet and sat back in her chair.  
"We are both leaders. A Queen of Meereen, a King in the North. We are from a long line of Kings; I the Targaryens, you the Starks. We were chosen to lead by our people. We both have Mormonts in our pasts. And we are accompanied by the sigils of our Houses in the flesh ...  
"And I think we may want the same thing" She looked at him through the golden candlelight as she drink the chilled black beer.  
"And what is that, your Grace?" Jon dare ask, careful about where she was going.  
"There are dead men coming, you say. They want to destroy everything. You came here because you wanted my help, and you say I will need yours. It's true; if the dead are as terrible as you say, then we will need each other. But after the war? What does Jon Snow want after that?"  
"..." Jon paused, "Your Grace ... I am more concerned with the War for the Living-"  
"Yes, but once that is done? Say that we are successful. Say that I overthrow Cersei, one way or another. What would you want after? I imagine a lot of your people will want to know if you are still King, or if I mean to invoke my forefather and bend the North like a brittle rod of iron"  
"... I will not kneel, your Grace"  
"Yes. That's what I admired, Jon. I liked the fact you refused to be intimated by loud voices and high titles. You are a man of principle and honour, my Hand told me. Jon Snow is as he is; he is a Northman of no truer blood. Honour and duty, he will not lie or tell you anything but the truth. After my travels in Essos, I can find no sweeter wind in the air than that.  
"You are the man who would be best for the North. They have chose you, and that is my greatest hope. For people to choose their rulers. For people to be free. No slaves. No masters. Seems odd, coming from a Queen, doesn't it?"  
"It does, your Grace ..."  
"Well, some things are older than a lost Princess's dreams. The North has had a king for so many generations. I think they should have the choice in the matter. I have already pledged to support Yara Greyjoy in her claim as Queen of the Iron Islands in return for her support to the Iron Throne. I am offering the same to you. Pledge your support to my claim, irregardless of the war against the dead, and I fully accept and support your title as King in the North"  
Jon narrowed his eyes slightly.  
"And if I refuse to support your claim?"  
"I would be saddened, I will admit. If you simply chose to remain out of the Iron Throne's business, no harm will come. If you choose to support Cersei or any other claimant, I am afraid I must treat you as an enemy, the same as any other"  
"What are _your goals_ " Jon pushed against her original question, "You want the Iron Throne, you said it yourself. But you said you are supporting a Greyjoy as Queen. You said you'd support me as King. That would mean you'd only have six Kingdoms"  
"My goals, your _Grace_ " His title having a pointed tint to the pronunciation, "Is to break the wheel. One House reigns. Then another. Then another. Then another. Crushing others beneath them, grinding the poor and the commonfolk into the mud. Enough is enough. How many people have died for the Throne? How many families torn apart? How many betrayals, how much blood shed, how many tears? My family drove themselves into madness and death for 'purity' and bloodlines. Your family suffered betrayal in exchange for gold and titles. Other families have been wiped out for spite. Cruelty runs thick in aristocracy. No more. The people must be given a choice, a chance to ask who rules them. Once I am Queen, I will put that into motion. This land is too large for one man in a capital that will never see the very-most North or the farthest South. Dorne. The North. The Riverlands. The Westerlands. The Vale. The Reach. The Stormlands. The Iron Islands ... If they wish to remain with the Crownlands, they can. If they wish to rule alone, they can. Peace can be given, if nobility can accept their ways are not the only ways"  
"That could provoke a lot of bloodshed" Davos pointed out, "Even in the days of the old Kings, wars were fought"  
"War is as common as the pox or death" Tyrion countered back, "Any man will look for a reason to swing a sword to increase his lot. But who is better to teach him; one of his own people, or an inbred King hundreds of leagues away?"

Silence reigned in the room. Daenerys stood up, pushing her chair away.

"I don't expect an answer today. After all, you have only just arrived and have much to think about. I imagine you will wish to talk with your council and consider what to say. I suggest we retire for the evening, and in the morning, I hope you will educate me on the threat from the Wall"  
"..." Jon stood as well, nodding quietly, "Yes, your Grace ..."

-

"That went quite well" Davos noted as he walked shoulder-to-shoulder with Jon towards their sleeping quarters. Jon found himself with far too much on his mind for one short dinner.  
"She is ... I don't understand what she is playing at. That business with blood and might in the throne room ... now she talks about freeing folk?"  
"Sounds to me she's had her fill of whatever nonsense she dealt with in Meereen"  
"Sounds to me that I don't believe everything she said" Jon frowned, "... Not now, at least"  
"Then you best write down everything you want to ask. Send a raven to Sansa, tell her what's happened and that you're safe for now. No doubt she'll give you the right way forward"  
"I don't doubt it" Jon sighed as he arrived at the room he'd be sleeping in, "Good night, Ser Davos"  
"Good night, your Grace. Don't stay up too late, mind. It's a long day tomorrow, if you want to educate the Queen on the Dead"  
Jon nodded. He had planned to sit up for an hour, write his letters, then relax and go to bed ...

As it was, he took off his sword and boots, fell onto the bed, and disappeared into a dark, dreamless sleep ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3
> 
> The first chapter had the original script verbatim up until Jon's refusal to bend the knee. From now, it will be either completely or mostly completely original. Not going to lie, during the original airing I was going 'DANY BE NICE TO JON' and Jon being Tired Dad Of The North was the only good thing about the scene.


End file.
